


mimicry

by qanterqueen



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, also i guess kravs here too guys im very sorry, i guess its h/c, i need to stop writing at midnight yall, mental breakdowns, suicide briefly referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qanterqueen/pseuds/qanterqueen
Summary: It's hard to be strong all the time.





	1. Chapter 1

Lup was the black sheep of the family.

It started from birth and never stopped. Two children instead of one, and just keeping one twin was an omen for bad luck, so what other choice did her parents have?

Then it was age six. Too loud in the orphanage, too angry. Taako was the quiet one. He was complacent, but she wanted to _know_  things. _She_  got them kicked out.

Age eight. She was the black sheep to _herself_ , and it came with a price when she finally accepted who she was. The rest of the world isolated her-- not Taako, never Taako, but there were points when she was alone. Out to get them dinner, shopping while he explored elsewhere-- in those instances, it didn’t matter what Taako would say. It mattered what the bakery man said when he turned her away, or what the seamstress offered to her upon walking in the door.

Twelve. She learned transmutation to finally become who she wanted. But then she was too smart for her age. 

Twenty. Too loud. Again. (This one stuck for a while.)

When she joined the IPRE with Taako, she was still the black sheep, but this time they _all_  were.

Everybody was too much of _something_. Too brainy, too commanding, too bold, too odd. Everybody was isolated, and this isolation is what brought them together. There were no judgments when she found herself accidentally yelling-- just a gentle reminder and a shrug when she continued. No one hit her, no one removed her from the room to “calm down”.

For a while it was frustrating that these people didn’t give her more excuses to be explosive. But after a time it became freeing. She was the black sheep but that was _okay_  for them. She could be loud because _she_  wanted to be.

Then her family was destroyed. It was tattered and torn, and suddenly she was too loud. Too different.

She was the one that scrambled to make what was lost. She was the one that tried to set up family dinners just to have two people attend. She was the one that invited everyone to go on an outing and got no responses back.

Slowly Lup was not loud. Slowly Lup was strong.

She was the one that had to smile at the two people that sat at her dinner table. She was the one that had to pretend she didn’t make dinner for seven, that she didn’t specifically avoid making blueberry pies because Davenport didn’t like blueberries, that she didn’t set up placemats for too many people.

She listened to Taako yell. She listened and she felt her heart break for him, but it was forbidden for her to let him know that she understood Lucretia. She didn’t _agree_ , but she understood, and that wasn’t what Taako wanted to hear. 

She was the shoulder that Magnus cried on. She was the that he broke to, sobbing about things she never knew happened.

When Lucretia called her with a shaking voice, Lup is the one that called the hospital. She was the one that held her hand in her first therapy session.

Lup was strong.

She was strong.

She was strong.

She _was_  strong.

She was _strong_.

But… but not anymore.

It was a collection of things that lead to _this_.

She palms the stone of farspeech in her hand, turning it over and over. She can’t decide who to call-- she doesn’t know if she _wants_  to call anybody, and if she did if she can even press the button with her shaking hands.

Really she thinks it’s all stupid. Everything was set off when she broke that dish, and that’s not even a good enough excuse for any of this.

(Somewhere she wonders if that’s _not_  a stupid trigger-- if she’s just been _told_  it’s stupid.)

The shards lay in front of her. Looking at them builds a pressure in her heart. It quickens her pulse, it puts a weight on her throat. 

Lup buries her head in her hands and _screams_.

Panting, shaking and broken-- she screams into the empty kitchen, into her empty house, and she imagines the sound filling in every crack and crevice, flooding every room like a tidal wave. She _wants_  to be heard. She wants her scream to disrupt _everything_. She wants eyes on her. There’s no one home except for her but she wants to be _noticed_.

Lup wants to be loud again.

“I-I’m _fucking done!_ ” It feels _so good_  to yell, to shake her head and bang her fists into the cabinet behind her. She’s making _noise_ , she’s rocking the goddamn boat.

“ _Fuck!_  Lucretia, fuck, I love you! Taako stop being an _asshole!_ ” Lup grips at her hair, she pulls and twists it and nearly breaks it. “Just-- everyone just _stop!_  I’m _done!_ ”

She takes her stone of farspeech and smashes it on the ground and it chips the tile and it feels _so good_.

“I’m so _fucking_  tired of-- of pretending-- of being--

I’m not _strong_.”

That’s when she starts crying.

The fire in her heart, usually so everlasting and present, dies so quickly. It extinguishes with the cold shiver that runs through her. Lup was the fire for everyone, but never for herself.

“I’m not strong. I-- I’m _not_.” 

Her arms wrap around herself.

Around her physical body that no one’s asked her about. Her fingers that Taako-- Taako would _always_  paint her nails because she couldn’t but he hasn’t touched them. 

She understands. She _understands_. She knows her problems aren’t the forefront of everyone’s minds, she knows she’s not everyone’s concern. She has her body back, and that should be enough for her, right? Lup’s _strong_ , she doesn’t need special attention.

Maybe she doesn’t. But she _wants_  it.

She wants, for _once_ , for someone to ask how she is. She wants someone to hold her hand, to touch her with love, to _pay attention_ \-- to stop looking at her with relief because she’s _there_  and that’s what _they_  need. 

She loves Barry, but he’s the worst offender. If he looks at her with that lovesick, puppy-dog gaze one more time she’s going to _scream_  at him and she doesn’t want to, but _gods_  she’s not okay, how has he not _noticed?_  It’s-- it’s not his _job_  to notice, but she’s gonna be _fucking selfish_  and be upset that he doesn’t.

Lup’s going to be _selfish_  and ask for help.

The thought makes her laugh through ugly sobs. Asking for help is now selfish, isn’t it?

Strong Lup doesn’t need help. She’s never needed help. She’s the rock, she’s the constant, she’s the dependable one. She’s the constantly burning fire in the cold night.

Well, now it’s raining, and what does she have?

She has an empty house and a broken plate. She has her back pressed against a cabinet door, she has her knees drawn up, she has screams that make no difference to anything. She has a husband that’s coming home in an hour because he’s out helping Magnus rebuild his broken, burned down town.

Through her tears, she sees the stone of farspeech on the ground. 

With shaking fingers she pressed the button and brings it to her lips. She whispers the name of her brother and she waits.

_ “Lulu, what’s crackin’?” _

What is she going to say?

_ Please pay attention to me? Please notice? Please give me pity, please listen to me cry, please don’t ask questions? _

“T-Taako--”

_ “Hey, I’m sorry, can this be quick? Real quick? Real sorry, I’ve got-- there’s--” _

“It’s okay,” Lup hears herself choke out. “I’ll call back.”

“ _Y-Yeah, awesome, thanks.”_  There’s a pause on his end, then a slightly muffled voice asks, _“Hey, you okay over there?"_

“Yeah.”

_ “...Okay-- well, I’ll talk to you soon, I’ve-- fuck, okay, I’ve got to go. Again, real sorry!” _

And then she’s alone again.

She bites down on the sleeve of her sweater, sobs shaking her body once more. They never really stopped but these ones _hurt_. She expected that and maybe that’s the worst part.

Lup has to stand up at some point. The broken plate before her is going to get somebody hurt-- she needs to sweep it up. She needs to get back to doing the dishes. No one asked her to, she just figured it would have been nice for Barry to come home to. 

(Because, y’know, he’d been having a rough time lately.)

So she should get back to that, really.

With weak legs she pushes herself up, bracing against the counter and staring down at the mess she’s made. 

It’s time for Lup to pick up her own mess before anyone sees it.

She laughs again and her heart is heavy. What a concept, right?


	2. Chapter 2

It’s midnight when she leaves.

She’s not sure if it’s better or worse to leave a note, so she doesn’t leave one at all. 

Let them freak out. Let them search for her.

She needs to do something _destructive_. She needs to feel alive and _real_. Crying earlier had helped but only for so long, because an hour after that Barry had come home. He had smiled at her like she was the goddamn sun, he had looked at her with that _look_  that said, _I can’t believe you’re here_. She had felt nauseous and kissed him.

She needs to feel _noticed_.

Walking around the town at midnight is a good start.

The buildings are dark and there’s not another person to be seen. It’s as if the whole town has been turned _off_ , shut down for the night, only to be restarted in the morning. 

Lup’s actually terrified of the dark, and it’s a paranoid fear that keeps her from looking around every two seconds. The thoughts of someone _watching_  her are bad enough, but the intense loneliness is worse. Lup is alone as she walks these streets.

She can turn around at any moment, but she doesn’t. She keeps walking and she ignores the hesitancy in every one of her steps. 

Walking alone is risky, yes, but it’s _not enough_. Yet she doesn’t know if she can do anything other than keep going.

What did she think was going to happen by doing this? Everyone would wake up and scatter frantically, trying to find her? It was  _midnight_  and she was quiet-- no one is going to wake up until much later. And where will she be by then?

This is pointless. All of it is pointless. She’s just more alone than she was before.

Lup feels like a child, throwing a fit and watching her parents out of the corner of her eye. Babies have to cry things out. They’re doing it for the attention. 

And… and she wants the attention. So it makes sense, but… still, it’s silly of her.

Why isn’t she at home, sleeping next to Barry? Why isn’t she where she’s supposed to be?

Lup continues to walk. She’s too afraid to turn around.

Her stone of farspeech is heavy in her hand. She figured she’d take it in case of something _bad_ , which was just ridiculous. What was  _bad_? And it was so late in the night, who would bother to come to her side? Who would care enough?

A breeze comes and sends a chill down her spine. It pushes her forward and she stumbles over her own feet, catching herself before she can fall. 

“This is stupid,” she mumbles to herself, “This is fucking _stupid_.”

There is one thing that’s nice about walking alone, and it’s almost funny. The good part about it is that she’s _alone_ , and she doesn’t _want_  to be alone, but…

But there’s no Barry here.

There’s no Taako, venting and shouting.

There’s no Magnus, shaken and crying.

There’s no Lucretia, frail and guilty.

There are no cries that fill her ears. There isn’t a glass of wine in her hand, anchoring her as someone passionately yells. There isn’t a room, pristine and clean, and a conversation that weighs heavy on her. There is no head on her shoulder, no hand in hers, no lips on hers.

Out here, she can say that they do not matter. Out here it is okay to admit that they’re _tiring_. Gods, she loves them all to death, but they’re so exhausting. 

Alone, walking these empty streets, she can cry about them. 

Lup digs her fingernails into her arms, stone of farspeech cupped in her hand, and the feeling of _something_  touching her is _nice_. 

The thought of Barry’s arms around her is nicer. But that’s not what she has.

Her feet slow until she’s shuffling in the dirt. 

They stop and she finds herself standing in the middle of the town square, cold and alone. She stares at her stone of farspeech and realizes she _desperately_  wants it to move.

She wants it to buz in her hands, urgent and loud in the empty silence. She wants someone to call her, to _want_  to talk to her-- she wants Taako to tell her about the dumb thing he wore that day, and she wants Magnus to ask her to coffee, she wants Lucretia to ask her something stupid and she wants Barry to just… she wants him to just _call_  and wait.

Just wait. Wait for her to start talking. Wait for her to start crying. Wait and listen.

But the stone stays still in her hand.

Lup sits in the middle of this town’s square and looks at the dirt in front of her.

She probably looks stupid. She probably looks like she’s homeless, or that she’s drunk, or stoned. She’s making a fool of herself, just sitting here like this.

But who cares? Who’s going to come and stop her? Who’s going to lend her their hand and stand her up and brush her off? Who’s going to wrap their cloak around her shoulders and wrap their arm around her and ask what she’s doing? 

Who’s going to walk her home?

No one. That’s the answer-- no one is there, no one is listening, and no one cares. Lup has to stand up, she has to dust herself off, and she has to turn around and head home.

What if she just… doesn’t?

What if she just keeps walking and disappears into the night, wisped away with the wind that chills her?

They’d all be sad. They would all need her and she wouldn’t be there.

In this darkness, she can admit that the option is tempting.

Lup shivers and stares at the stone in her hand. If she doesn’t stop and call someone, she’s not sure she’ll ever move from here. Who’s the only person she knows that will be awake and _not_  going to treat her like glass?

The answer comes easily.

She’s going to admit defeat, then.

_”... Lup?_ ” Her stone crackles to life, her thumb pressed tightly on the button.

“Hi.”

_ “Lup-- what-- it’s  _ midnight _. What are you…  are-- are you okay? What’s going on?” _

Lup looks around her and sighs. Her breath floats in front of her eyes. 

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

_ “Um… uh, why-- I mean, do you need something...? Do you want me to get Taako?” _

“No, that’s… you don’t need to get him.”

_ ”O-okay… So…” _

“I, uh…” 

She bites down on her knuckles, her eyes already stinging. “Uh…”

_ “Lup, what’s wrong?” _

“Please come get me.”

The grip on her knuckles tightens as she lets out her first sob. Her stone of farspeech crackles in her hand but she doesn’t hear what it says. 

Lup covers her mouth with a shaking hand and cries.

It’s her breaking point.

Not a second after her stone quiets she hears footsteps, hurried and emerging from the darkness with an elegant cadance. Someone kneels in front of her and the presence of another person is as good as a light in the empty town.

“Lup...”

“ _I’m really sorry_.” The words have been perched on her tongue ever since she called him, but now they tumble out with another gasping cry. She interrupted him while he was working, she knows. Gods, he doesn’t even know her that well-- it’s so much to ask of him and she’s not even sure why she called him anymore. “I’m-- I’m _so sorry_ \--”

“Lup, it’s okay, you’re-- Gods, aren’t you cold?” He moves in front of her and in the next moment there’s a cloak wrapped around her shoulders, heavy and laden with feathers. She clutches it like some sort of security blanket, the weight of it so welcoming--

But not as welcoming as when he rubs her arms with his hands and wraps her in a hug.

She shakes in his arms, and she’s probably ruining his suit and getting it stained with her tears and-- and Gods, why did she call him?

She’s sorry she did, but she’s just so _alone_. 

“Lup, do you-- do you want to go back home?” He whispers to her, and she shakes her head, and she’s being stubborn, and he doesn’t need to deal with her--

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get Taako? What about Barry?”

Lup shakes her head again. She wants to stay here, with arms wrapped around her. She doesn’t want to think about anything.

“Okay.” The arms around her tighten just a bit more and it’s _so nice_. “Okay,” He repeats again, softly. “We can’t stay out here.”

He cuts a rift in the air and the next moment it’s warm around her. 

She peers out from under his arms and they’re in some sort of room-- it looks like a hotel room, pristine and clean and full of white. It’s large-- definitely expensive, and from outside the large window there’s a city skyline. 

She doesn’t know where he’s landed them, and that’s somehow comforting.

He doesn’t move to stand, he doesn’t ask her anything, he doesn’t let his arms loosen. And, past the guilt, Lup couldn’t be more relieved.

But, eventually, he lets go of her just to move to her side. She immediately leans into him, and between him and his cloak and the room a wave of warmth is washing over her, comforting and _dense_. Her thoughts, floating aimlessly in the cold, solidify in the heat.

“Listen, I, um,” He begins, and despite how awkward he sounds his arm presses against her back and starts gently playing with her hair, running through it and detangling what the winds had knotted. “I won’t ask. But if you want to talk, I won’t go anywhere.”

She nods, pressing herself further into his side. 

Having him there is like a weight off her shoulders. Even if he had to run from a job and she feels bad about it-- she doesn’t feel _too_  guilty. 

She falls asleep like that, without saying a word. And when she tells him in the morning what happened, he doesn’t judge her. He sits, and he listens, and that’s all she needs.


End file.
